A Night On the Town
by Alchemist Experiment
Summary: Naomi didn't go out much, but she made an effort. Until she found herself abandoned in a corner store with painful shoes, a too-short skirt, and certainly no desire to chase down the last remains of a high profile drug cartel...


_Disclaimer: Not mine, not making any money off of this._

_Pairing: Raye Penber/Naomi Misora_

A Night On the Town

It all started when Naomi Misora broke her shoe. The problem with going clubbing was that she tended to wear skirts. Skirts and motorcycles didn't go together all that well, and she either walked or took a bus. And she'd never quite mastered the skill of walking in stiletto heels. She didn't even know why she'd let herself be talked into buying the damn shoes in the first place. Something about every woman needing a little black dress and a pair of fuck-me heels.

She'd broken the damn thing in a convenience store. She couldn't imagine how she had to look - in her black leather mini-skirt and red halter, standing on one foot and cursing with a broken shoe on one foot and a pack of cigarettes and condoms in her hand.

That was it. To hell with the club, she was going to go home and take a hot bath. And throw out those god forsaken shoes. They pinched her feet anyway. Cursing under her breath, she struggled to unhook the complicated straps of the broken shoe, praying she got it off before anyone saw her.

Damn it all, she was an FBI agent! Fresh from the academy, certainly, but still! FBI agents didn't break their shoes in seedy corner stores.

Only clearly they did, or her heel never would have snapped off.

_I'm already the laughing stock of my unit,_ she thought to herself. _This is just par for the course._

It seemed as though Naomi's night was only going to get worse.

"Misora?"

Stumbling as her head jerked up, Naomi grabbed at the shelf to steady herself. No. Oh no, anyone but _him_! But there he was, grinning at her like an idiot.

"Penbar," she muttered, yanking off her shoe and standing up straight. She followed his eyes to the items clutched in her hand. Wonderful. Now the whole bureau was going to hear how Agent Misora had been caught in a corner store dressed like a street walker with a broken shoe and items that would probably be termed 'illicit'. The only thing that could have made it worse was if she was also clutching a porn magazine.

"Everything okay?"

"Fine." Naomi bent to extricate her other foot from the shoe.

"You seem to be having some trouble with your shoes," he pointed out, arms folded and that irritating smile still on his lips.

"It's none of your business. If you'll excuse me…"

"Hey, hey, there's no need to be so cold!" Penbar held up his hands. "I don't know what happened to you tonight, but you look pissed as all hell. And you don't have any shoes."

"I have shoes, they're just broken." She brandished the snapped heel at him.

"Those things look like torture devices. Here."

Before Naomi could protest, Penbar had taken the still in tact shoe and deftly snapped the other heel off. He handed it back to her. "You can at least walk in them now. I don't want to think about what you'd be walking through barefoot otherwise."

Why hadn't she thought of that? Because she was too pissed at her shoes, at her so-called 'friends' who had abandoned her to the mercy of the Virginia transportation service, her crummy job….

"Thanks," she mumbled, struggling to put the shoes back _on_.

"Do you want me to hold something for you…?" Penbar was still just standing there, watching her. Didn't he have anywhere else to be? She only glared at him, gripping the shelf with one hand and trying to hook her shoe onto her foot with the other.

"Okay, now you're just being ridiculous." Penbar laughed and moved to push her hand away. She sputtered a protest as he _put her shoe on for her_. She didn't need anyone to put her shoe on for her! But he seemed to get them on more quickly than she could have even unencumbered.

She was going to catch hell on Monday. It was hard enough being a woman in the FBI as it was! Now not only could they leer and sneer and make rude comments about her capabilities, they had a story to back it all up.

"Thank you." Naomi's tone was clipped as she straightened up. At least it did seem easier to stand now.

"No problem. Heels don't suit you anyway. So what _did_ happen? I mean… there's got to be a story behind this."

"There isn't." She sighed. "I was going clubbing with some friends, my shoe broke, now I'm going home."

"Calling it a night over a broken shoe? Come on, where's your sense of adventure?" Penbar smiled. "Hey, why don't I buy you a drink?"

A drink sounded great. But not a drink with Raye Penbar. He was a good agent, but he was a bit of a jerk. Oh, not in the obvious sense. He was handsome and charming and he knew it. Naomi couldn't stand those types of guys.

"No, thank you."

"You look like you need a drink. I need one, too. Come on, may as well do something tonight. You're all dressed up and everything."

"I just want to go home," Naomi repeated. She could have her drink there. She had a six pack of beer in the fridge. Cold beer and a hot bath, that was all that she wanted.

"Okay, okay! Then I'll walk you home."

Men. Naomi grumbled under her breath and didn't respond. She stalked to the register and paid for her purchases, trying very hard to ignore the fact that Penbar was walking behind her. She shoved the condoms - which she doubted she even needed anymore - into her purse and peeled the cellophane off of her cigarettes as she was walking out the door. As soon as she was outside she lit one.

"So do you live far from here, or…?"

"Penbar. I appreciate your concern, but I don't need you to walk me home. I don't _want_ to walk me home." She fixed him with a stern gaze, her cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth.

"And I do want to walk you home. I promise, I only have gentlemanly intentions."

"I know." Because Penbar was a gentleman. He was nice and sweet and funny and intelligent and one of the few men who _didn't_ treat her like she shouldn't be in the bureau. But he was also arrogant and full of himself and insufferable. "I'm just not interested in any company, that's all."

"What if I don't talk? It'll be like I'm not even there, promise."

"Then what's the point?"

"I'd get to walk a beautiful woman home." Penbar smiled. She knew she wasn't going to be able to get rid of him. It wasn't a long walk, she'd just put up with him.

"Fine." Naomi adjusted her purse on her shoulder and set off walking, puffing irritably on her cigarette. Penbar followed behind.

"So, tell me. How the hell does a woman like you decide 'I want to be a federal agent'?"

So much for not talking. Naomi shrugged. "I've always wanted to go into law enforcement," she said. What did he mean, 'a woman like her'? "I wanted to join the FBI since college."

"BU, right?"

"Mmhmm." Had he been checking up on her? "Worked in forensics after graduation."

"Forensics. I remember when I was in college, half the class had to run out and be sick the first time we watched an autopsy." Penbar chuckled. "And one guy fainted when the first organs started coming out."

"People don't like to reminded they're just lumps of meat wrapped up in skin." She supposed she couldn't blame them. It took away the mystery and wonder of life, knowing what people were made of.

"I guess so… that's a weird way of putting it." There was a strange note in Penbar's voice. Naomi looked over her shoulder and shrugged.

"But it's true," she insisted. "Does life seem so special when you see it like that? Human beings all want to think we're special, complex, here for a reason. But it's hard to think that way when you see we're really just meaty machines."

Penbar didn't say anything. Naomi was internally pleased that she'd shut him up. Maybe she'd given him something to think about, or maybe he just thought she was strange. It didn't matter, either way.

They walked in silence for a while, until Naomi crushed her cigarette butt beneath her now-flat shoes.

"So you've lived in the US for a while…?" 

"Since college."

"My mother's Japanese, you know. From Kyoto. I've got family over there, it's a beautiful country."

"My family's from Tokyo." She'd wondered if he had any Asian in him. But his name was purely American, and Naomi had never been good at telling nationalities apart.

"You visit often? I go back every couple of years, maybe we could go together sometime…." Penbar started to say. He was cut off by the screech of tires and the unmistakable sound of gunfire. Naomi turned, eyes wide as the black car sped away, tinted windows rolled back up. She hardly even heard Penbar curse.

"Fuck!"

His second exclamation got her attention. He was bleeding from his shoulder, clutching it as he went down on one knee. The blood stained his blue jacket and his face was twisted in pain. How badly was he hurt? There was so much blood! And beyond that…

Someone had just shot a federal agent.

Naomi didn't even think before she acted. She bent and stuck her hand inside his jacket, looking for a gun. He had one.

"What…?"

"I need your gun, I'm not carrying one. Just stay here! Someone call 911!" she shouted, looking around the street. A gang of college aged boys were on the corner, gaping. The street had come to a standstill, everyone staring at the bleeding man and the woman in the short skirt and sleeveless top with a gun. There was a motorcycle idling by the college aged boys. Naomi whipped out her badge and began running, jumping onto the vehicle and ignoring the startled protests.

"Federal agent!" she shouted. "I need to borrow this. Call 911!" Why wasn't anyone on their phones already? A man was bleeding on the side of the street!

She was off without another word, her skirt hitched up to her hips and Penbar's gun in her hand. It was uncomfortable and awkward and the car was already turning a corner but Naomi kicked the bike into the highest gear it would go. She wasted no time. As soon as she had a shot she fired, aiming for the tires.

It all happened so fast. The back tire blew and the car careened in the street, jackknifing wildly. It crashed into a telephone pole and Naomi slammed on the brakes, the bike skidding and twisting as she struggled to keep it under control. The smell of burning rubber and asphalt filled the night and Naomi leapt off the bike as the driver staggered out of the car.

"Freeze!" she shouted. The man - ski-masked and gloved - looked as though he were going to run. Without another thought Naomi launched herself into the air, spinning and kicking out to knock the man down to the ground.

"Stay down!" Her foot connected and the men dropped like a sack of bricks. She trained her gun on the car, one foot on the driver's back. "Everyone out of the car! Now!"

Someone had better have called 911 by now. She thought she heard sirens in the distance. Maybe it was her imagination, she didn't know. Her heart was pounding in her ears and she was filled with adrenaline and another man was getting out of the car and dropping to the ground.

Now she _really_ just wanted a hot bath and a cold beer.

One of the boys she had 'borrowed' the motorcycle from had called 911. Naomi gladly turned proceedings over to the police - they'd only make a fuss if she didn't, and she didn't care about the collar. She was sore and tired and shaken up and she wanted to go home.

"Misora… I've got to say, you're one amazing woman."

Naomi handed Penbar's gun back to him and shrugged. Amazing? She'd flashed an entire street and stolen a motrocycle. She couldn't even run down criminals properly.

"I think you can call me Naomi at this point," she said. "They'll be taking you to the hospital soon. It isn't a bad wound, the bullet just grazed your shoulder."

"They already gave me painkillers. I can't believe those guys - they're thugs, were part of a drug ring I busted last month. I put their boss away for life."

"I remember." Naomi nodded. "You're going to be fine."

"I know. Some night, huh?"

"I told you not to walk me home," Naomi teased, lightly.

"But if I hadn't, who would have been around to kick hose guys' heads in for me?" Even drugged and bleeding, Penbar was still a charming flirt. What a jerk. But… well, he _was_ a handsome, charming, intelligent jerk. And maybe he wasn't that bad. Maybe. Too many maybes.

"Don't expect me to do that again. Do you want me to go to the hospital with you?"

"No, thanks. Much as I'd love a beautiful woman holding my hand while they stitch me up, I know you just want to go home. Besides, you'll have to make a statement and fill out reports…. But hey, Naomi? Thanks. You saved my ass, you know."

"Don't make me regret it." Rolling her eyes, Naomi reached out and brushed a bit of hair out of his eyes. She realized she'd been scared when she saw him kneeling on the sidewalk bleeding. Maybe she was being stupid, keeping him at such a distance. It was clear he was interested in her - he hadn't been trying to hide it. And he was good looking and they had common interests and it was so hard to get a boyfriend when men found out what she did for a living….

"I won't. And hey… maybe when I'm back on my feet, I can take you out for that drink?"

"Maybe," Naomi said. She could think about it later. "Take care of yourself, I have to go talk to one of the officers. I'll… call you."

"I'll be waiting."

Naomi walked away, pulling a cigarette out of her purse and lighting it. She was looking at another couple of hours of interviews and paperwork. And then, maybe, just maybe, she could go home and finally take a hot bath.


End file.
